Standing At the Cusp of Judgment
by thompsongunner91
Summary: Written in response to Deeper Than Fathomless' story "Judgment Upon the Unsaved."


**Disclaimer: ** Despite the fact that I own three versions of the Bible, none of these are written by me, and therefore not my work. The song used in this story, _Sarabande de Noir_, is property of the German band Subway to Sally.

The world was quiet. Quiet, but for the low tones of voices, the tramp of feet, the next to approach the precipice that lead out into nothingness, into a long drop toward what looked like a gray cloud of ash that had become water, a waterfall of ashes and cloud, like a pyroclastic flow, falling down, down into a deep blackness that if stared at too long, in the words of a man named Nietzsche, one would find it stared back, straight through the soul.

Above this blackness hung a radiant light, a fire of cascading white and gold and red-orange like the molten liquid of a forge being poured into the mold to fashion some mythical weapon.

These things were held separate, though, the molten light never descending into the depths, the abyssal blackness never rising up to engulf this brilliant illumination.

A great dirge had been released from the people, as one by one they went toward the farthest point, stood, faced the force that would come upon them as it would, and either be rent asunder or made whole. Their punishments varied, sometimes few, sometimes several. Sometimes none and these were of two groups: those that were made whole, and those that had snuffed out the glow of their own lives. For what more punishment was needed than to rob oneself of that little speck of warmth when it would be compounded by the blood-freezing, heart-stopping cold of the deep dark?

The next person was called, the funereal song sounding for them. The dirge died on the assembled lips, however, as more than one person, but a cluster, moved forward, a different tune on their tongues.

"_Stille Nacht...Heilige Nacht..._" The group marched, old friends in their previous lives, heads bent as if in supplicant prayer. "_Alles schlaeft..._" Suddenly, the tone at the one at their head changed and became defiant, as did the voices of the others. "_Nur wir sind wach!_" The lifted their hands, clasped as one. "_Fassen die Haende zum inneren Kreis..._" The one who had been called stepped forward, thrusting a fist toward the light and darkness.

"_Singen von Feuer und ewigen Eis!_" Their voices grew softer for a moment as the magma-like light began to pulsate. "_Stille Nacht...Eisheilige Nacht..._"

The figure fell on its knees, curled into a half-ball, arms curling over a head that couldn't be protected no matter what was done. The punishments unfolded, once more the masses were allowed to hear the crimes, to see if the punishments fit. They did not hear what they were expecting, further apologies, and further excuses.

_"You have practiced many faiths, but held none of them faithfully."_

_"I have passed my mind over all faiths and chosen my path. The Long Road is made of many paths, each leading toward the brilliance of some inner truth."_

_"By the faith you were born to, you have sinned against nature."_

_"By the faith I was born to, I was created from the nature taken root long before I came to be myself as I am. The leaf cannot shun the roots for their being buried in a long history and growth through millennia, just as the leaf cannot be blamed for the roots placing themselves where they found fertile soil."_

Bloody wounds and gouges, bruises and burns appeared on the victim's flesh.

_"By the faith you chose, you have transgressed beyond all but a few bounds."_

_"By the faith I chose, I lived my life according to those virtues that would not be compromised by tenets I thought to be unfounded in reason."_

The victim curled up on the ground, now in a tight, quivering ball as part of the molten light seemed to come down, striking like a lance through the ears. A scream wrenched the hearts of the listeners and made bile stick in their craws. Poisonous little arachnids appeared from the ground, settling their stings into flesh.

_"By the faiths you have dabbled with, you must answer for your crimes."_

_"I speak in truth when I say I did nothing. I lived my life by a simple creed, the morals to which I made myself subject. I harmed none, and if I have harmed some it was inadvertent, in a moment of heat, and I have punished myself for it and begged pardon. I have not envied those I should not envy, for in envying the wise and strong I too work to become as such. I have not stolen life but what was needed for sustenance of my own, and if I have seen the ebbing of life I have worked to cause no suffering, only to bring comfort._"

_"You bound yourself in fast closeness to those who would not believe."_

_"Speak to me of this then: tell me your One Powerful All-Encompassing Truth. Tell me the one value men may find to make their lives peaceful. What is this meaning, this thing we seek? Is it truly a feeling at all? Who is to say, even you, that this number may be not 42, but also 72? What of the value of 99, the Theses as well as the Beautiful Names? _Sola fide, _a holy man once said. Faith is all that is needed, and _Semper Fi _have said those that died too young in fruitless, violent endeavors, believing their cause just!_

_"Those I hold fast are those that should be made fast in my heart, those dear ones I wish to see again. For that is the only reward I seek. I do not want kingdoms. I do not want glory or fame or honor. I do not ask for a mansion encrusted with jewels on a gold-paved street." _The little figure had ceased to tremble and thrash as it had been.

_"I would only be bereft of a quiet place, a warm place, a place of softness, with those that I love and miss deeply, should the verdict be against me." _A soft dripping was heard by all, like a single drop of water hitting a vast pool, the echo of a soul in Nirvana, or a tear striking a growing puddle of tears. "_I _miss _them. I _miss _them and have been told, should they not believe, that I will see them nevermore. This reward is the only one that I seek, that I hope and, dare I use this word, pray, there is willingness for... This surely cannot be too much to ask..."_

And then there were arms, soft arms, lifting the little figure up, and there was a smile that could be seen, and the tears had been wiped away.


End file.
